


oh, you're quite the catch

by Redburn



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Colleagues to Lovers, M/M, Porn With Plot, but Richie makes up for it, its Eddies fault, they're at an office christmas party Stan hates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 14:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redburn/pseuds/Redburn
Summary: When Stan agreed to go to this stupid office party for Eddie's benefit, he wasn't expecting anything else besides some free drinks to come out of it.Richie had other plans.





	oh, you're quite the catch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breathplayed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathplayed/gifts).



> wahhhhh so this piece of trash fic is for the lovely Emma, who writes stozier so well it sucked me into their dynamic and now I can't escape bjsafbsjafds ENJOY THE PORN
> 
> also LLISTEN TO [THIS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7iCmulLFPA) SONG cause thats where the title is from also ITS SO STOZIER OMGFGJF

You let your hair down,  
Little birds gone tumbling to the ground.

 _\- Crushed Pleats_ , Dralms

 

Stan wonders, for the fifth time that night, why it is he agreed to tag along to this dreaded party.

If you had asked him, he would have given a response along the lines of _because nothing good ever happens to me, ever,_ or perhaps something less dramatic: because his best friend had dragged him here promising a good time, even though Stan knows all too well Eddie just wants the chance to get with the sparkling new, tall drink of water in the linguistics department on the fourth floor.

_“He’s my soulmate, Stan, I’m telling you,” Eddie had said one day._

_“You’ve known him for less than two months,” Stan had reminded him, not wanting his friend to go overboard._

_“And water is wet.” Eddie liked to distract Stan with quotes when his argument was failing. “C’mon, please? For me?”_

_Stan had been tempted to remind Eddie of all the other favours he was still owed, but knew it was fruitless. When Eddie had his sights set on something, not even Stan could reason with him._

_“Okay, fine.”_

And so now, he was here, looking around the room at a bunch of people in his office he’s never bothered to learn the names of.

Not once over the years had Stan ever cared to show up to one of these gatherings. Namely because during that time it had oozed nothing but Christmas, and whenever he’d gotten the annual evite in his email it automatically played carols at him like a kazoo to the face, and Stan would grimace and close the tab with finality.

But then their company’s officials had put in slightly more effort with the invites to appear more culturally sensitive, aptly changing it to an office ‘festive holiday’ party – although when he looks around the open space Stan would argue not a lot has changed it terms of the set-up.

But this year, he was here in support of his friend. And his friend’s dick, apparently. The current object of Eddie’s desires was a guy named Bill who’d recently transferred to their office and also into Eddie’s heart. They didn’t cross paths much, but every now and then in the elevator Bill and Eddie would make small talk, to which Stan would then suffer through Eddie waxing poetic about the man’s eyes for the rest of the day.

“Hey!”

Ah, and there he is, the bane of Stan’s existence.

Eddie bounds over to him with a drink in each hand, and without looking he thrusts one into Stan’s face carelessly. Stan mutters under his breath but takes it anyway. It’s not a red, at least, so Stan downs a large swing.

“I can’t find him anywhere,” Eddie’s saying, but Stan knows if he tries to interrupt him, Eddie won’t listen. “What if I read this all wrong?”

“Read _what_ wrong?” Stan eyes him. “Again, you _barely_ know the guy. He’s probably just running late.”

Eddie ignores him. “What if he’s not even interested? What if I’ve just been making a fool of myself? What if he shows up here with a girlfriend, or a wife, or _two_ wives?” Eddie continues before turning to him with saucer eyes.

“Yeah, because I hear that’s the latest trend at office parties,” Stan drawls. As far as Stan knows, the only thing office parties are good for is opening up the floor for a chance to have drunken sex with a co-worker of your choice and having the excuse of blaming it on the lonely feelings you only get around the holidays.

Stan has never taken advantage of that liberty, thank you very much.

“Is there anyone here you wanna bang?” Eddie then asks without preamble.

“No. I’d really rather not put myself through the trouble of having to avoid them until the next office gang-bang,” Stan answers.

“Shame,” Eddie starts, and Stan knows he’s going to say more, but what exactly— “Because there’s a guy over there who’s been eyeing you for a while now.”

Stan quirks a brow at Eddie and tries to wonder if his friend’s just seeing things. One of Eddie’s many given talents has always been not being able to read people correctly. It’s how Stan once had to drive up to a small town in Maine to pick Eddie up after Eddie had mistakenly confused a foreign man’s sexual interest with just thinking Eddie wanted to rent out the guy’s spare room.

But because Stan is a great friend he gives him the benefit of the doubt, and angles around slightly in the direction Eddie had gestured.

Standing on the opposite side of the crowded room stands Richie Tozier from PR (and he looks away quickly once Stan catches him staring). Stan only knows his last name because one time some of his mail got mixed up with his own, and he’d taken it upon himself to return it to Richie's desk, because there was no harm in that, right? Looking back, that had probably been his first mistake.

So ever since then, for the better part of the year, Richie had been stopping by Stan’s desk at least once a week, completely unprompted and striking up conversations Stan would probably deem inappropriate in the workplace.

Charming one minute and incredibly crude the next. He was a total flirt, that much was obvious. For Stan, that was normally a red flag in terms of dating potential, but it was frustrating sometimes how much Stan actually liked to hear Richie crack his lame jokes. And Richie never seemed discouraged on Stan’s quieter, unresponsive days, so perhaps somewhere along the way he was happy to just hang around Stan’s cubicle without any means of hooking up.

He was certainly attractive, though, Stan could admit.

Right now Richie was talking animatedly to a woman Stan recognised from HR, and he seems to have abandoned his suit jacket somewhere and currently has the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to the elbows. His black slacks were a nice fit, but what stood out were the red converse he had on his feet. Stan smiles inwardly at the contrast.

“You know him?” Eddie asks after some moments pass.

Stan turns back to his friend and wonders if Richie will look over again. “Yeah. He talks to me sometimes. Not sure if it’d be worth the trouble, though.”

“Really?” Eddie looks right at Richie again, and Stan wants to smack him for being so obvious. “He’s kinda hot… in a shaggy sort of way. I might hit that if Bill hadn't already stolen my heart. And my libido.”

“Again, you _hardly_ know the guy,” Stan mutters, but it’s met to deaf ears. Especially now because said guy has just walked into the office and Stan knows not even a bomb detonating would tear Eddie’s gaze away from Bill.

By now Stan thinks almost everyone has shown up to this party. Suddenly, there’s an announcement from the CEO as she stands atop a small platform near where the DJ is currently set up. Stan tries to listen, but every now and then, his eyes will catch Richie’s again across the room, and Richie is giving him this smile that Stan can’t quite place. After some time, the speeches end and the DJ is being told to drop a beat.

Stan continues to nurse his drink and can’t help but notice Richie is no longer standing where he had been before.

“Stan, _Stan_ ,” Eddie is tugging at Stan’s sleeve incessantly. Stan gives him a look to quit it. “We should go dance. Right now.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t wanna seem like I’m just waiting around for Bill to make a move, _duh_.” Eddie says, like it’s obvious.

Stan’s look intensifies. “But then he might think you came here with me.”

“What, friends can’t dance together?” Eddie sighs as he removes the drink from Stan’s hand. “C’mon, it’s a good song, anyway.”

The beat of _Earth, Wind and Fire_ thrums around the room along with a light show to accompany it, and no one can deny the intoxicating beat. So Stan nods and allows Eddie to drag him out into the middle of the dance floor, swaying together amongst the sea of tipsy employees. Stan’s not even sure Bill could spot them in this crowd.

But eventually he feels himself relax, following Eddie’s movements as they dance through song after song. The DJ is playing a nice mix of oldies and newbies, and it’s the oldies that always have an effect of making Stan feel more at ease.

When there’s a small intermission, Stan takes the time to scan the room for Eddie’s benefit. He can’t seem to spy Bill anywhere, and Eddie appears to have caught on to this fact as well. He excuses himself, leaving Stan to either follow him or stay. When someone bumps into Stan he stumbles slightly, and ends up knocking shoulders with none other than Richie himself.

Stan blinks, wondering when it was he’d appeared.

Richie is smiling that smile again. He’s alone, too, and makes a gesture along the lines of _you wanna dance?_ since trying to talk over the music was a right pain.

Stan is ready to say no, that he should find Eddie, or he needs to go to the bathroom, or _something_. But he surprises himself by nodding once, and Richie grins, causing Stan to return his own small smile. They start to move again, and Stan can’t ignore the spark of nerves in his gut, that excitement of dancing with someone new and, not to mention, who you may or may not be attracted to.

Although Stan soon hides a laugh at seeing Richie’s dancing. The guy was nothing but flailing limbs, but he didn’t seem to care, which somehow made it endearing. Stan doesn’t think he’s any better – he tends to think too much when he sways, always too careful and calculated. But Richie wasn’t teasing him about his moves either, so Stan figures they landed on common ground.

Only then the song changes, and the DJ is saying, “If there are any lovers out there tonight, this one’s for you.” and Stan is expecting a slower song to begin playing, but what he’s not expecting are the first chords to Ginuwine’s _Pony_ to blast out from the speakers.

Laughs and cheers erupt from all around them, and Richie even whistles approvingly.

People start to pair up, grinning and grinding to their hearts content. Stan watches them curiously with a strange sense of longing. He turns to Richie, half expecting to see someone else hanging off of him by now, but instead Richie’s eyes are locked intensely with his. Stan feels a white-hot wave of heat crash into him, impossible to ignore and leaving his blood pulsing.

He embodies how he’d been describing his peers all night as just feeling lonely. Of course everyone wants someone to be with around the holidays, so sue him. But it was the lingering doubt of that someone possibly being Richie that still held him back.

Maybe Eddie was right. Maybe Stan didn’t need to date, just fuck.

Richie steps closer, then, and his eyes are hooded and dark behind his glasses. Stan releases a shaky breath, and mimics the action. They couldn’t be more than half a foot apart now, and Richie isn’t touching him yet. Stan realises he wants him to.

Richie shifts forward so his mouth is right next to Stan’s ear. “Can I?” he breathes.

Stan isn’t certain what he means, but knows his answer is a definite: “Yes.”

The bass of the song vibrates his frame, and when Richie’s hand brushes lightly over Stan’s chest, he looks straight ahead over Richie’s shoulder. Another hand lands at the dip in his waist, and Stan tries his best to relax into the touch, but his wildly beating heart was keeping that from happening.

Richie keeps his head close, now resting their temples together, and Stan finally reciprocates the touch and splays his hands over Richie’s stomach before inching up slowly. He thinks he hears Richie hum, but it’s hard to tell over the music.

_… If you’re horny, let’s do it, ride it, my pony…_

Then the hand at his waist begins to commandeer him, starting their hips off in a gentle swaying motion. They follow the beat easily, and Stan feels hot all over, fingers shaking timidly as they loop into the gaps of Richie’s button-up.

_… Just once if I have the chance, the things I will do to you…_

Stan swallows drily. Richie is closer now, their fronts almost brushing together. The friction was enough to send Stan into a spin, a wanting he hasn’t felt in so long, and he’s almost unsure of how to respond. Richie seems confident in leading for the moment, with both of his hands now having a vice grip on Stan’s hips. Stan twitches when fingers easily slip underneath his shirt, grazing his skin lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

_… Send chills up and down your spine, juices flowing down your thigh…_

It’s impossible to ignore how interested his dick is right now.

“You’re amazing,” Richie says hotly into his ear. Stan reacts by gripping Richie tighter.

Richie’s lips trail down the expanse of Stan’s neck, stopping occasionally to kiss lightly and then eventually circling to the front of Stan’s throat. Richie nips at Stan’s Adam’s apple and Stan’s breath really does catch then. Stan reaches up to fist a hand into Richie's hair, not sure if he wants to pull him away or to urge him closer.

Richie’s hair was tickling Stan’s chin, so he moves back to look at him, and Stan is fully aware of how hot his face has become during this time.

_… My saddle’s waiting, come and jump on it…_

Stan refuses to blink when they lock eyes again. He finds some courage and lets his hands fall onto the exposed skin of Richie’s chest, dipping underneath the material to run across Richie’s collarbones. Their hips are now completely rutting together, the friction almost unbearably fluid and causing sweat to form at the back of his neck.

“You—” Richie starts, his hold tightening.

Stan hopes whatever he was about to say was a good thing. He tugs on Richie’s shirt collar until their foreheads are almost touching. Their breaths are mingling together, and the tantalising atmosphere has now increased tenfold. He can hear the song coming to a finish, and Stan wonders if this will be the moment when they kiss.

Richie is still staring, like he’s caught in the crossfires. Stan waits, wanting to see if Richie will move first, to see if this is actually something he really wants to happen between them.

If they were going to kiss, now was the time. Right now.

But then the moment passes them by and the song changes over to something considered not quite as raunchy. Stan doesn’t know if this is his cue to move away, if they were even going to continue this little dance. Richie still remains stuck, his gaze almost lazy, unfocused.

“Do you…” Richie sucks in a breath and tries again. His throat bobs. “Would you like to get something to drink?”

Stan is caught slightly off guard, but pleasantly so. He gives Richie a small smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool,” their hands finally fall to their sides as Richie steps away, and he fidgets slightly before he turns to lead.

Stan dodges and squeezes through bodies as they make their way off the dance floor. Richie looks back, as if maybe to check Stan was actually following him. Stan can’t help but find it adorable. Man, what was happening to him tonight?

Finally they make it out alive and Richie picks up two flutes of champagne as the waiter walks past with a tray. He hands one to Stan and says, “Uh, right. So, happy festive season?”

“Right,” Stan gives him a flat stare, but smirks to shake the worried look that crosses Richie’s face. He clinks their flutes together before taking a sip, and Richie follows. Stan is instantly grateful for the drink, feeling particularly parched from their dancing. It also helps considerably to calm his nerves.

He’s trying very hard not to overthink what just happened back there. It was just a dance, completely harmless, no don’t-sleep-with-your-co-workers rules were broken... _yet_ , his unhelpful mind supplies.

"So are you--" Richie says, but a sharp bass drop cuts the rest off.

"What?" Stan asks, frowning and leaning in closer.

Richie bites his lip before looking away. He begins to scan the room until his eyes catch sight of something. He jerks his head in a gesture for Stan to follow him again, so Stan does, and they walk silently out of the crowded room and away from the music, finding themselves in the hallway and then Richie guides them over to the emergency stairs.

"Where are we going?" Stan has to ask.

"C'mon," Richie says as he pushes the handlebar so it opens. He gives Stan a wink. "It'll be fun."

Stan sighs and wonders if it's worth the trouble. If _Richie_ was worth the trouble. He settles on a tentative yes, and steps through the door Richie is holding open for him. Richie takes the lead and they start to ascend the steps, going up several flights before reaching the top floor. There's a smaller staircase that must lead up to the roof, and then Richie is pulling out some keys from his pocket and flipping through them one-handedly. He unlocks the door and grins back to Stan.

"This'll be quieter."

Stan raises his eyebrows, hating the thought of getting caught, but his curiosity ultimately gets the better of him and he steps up until the cool December breeze is greeting his face. He wishes Richie had told him to bring a jacket, but it couldn't hurt to be out here for a little while, he supposes. The sight of the city skyline twinkles away in the distance, the sky now bleeding out pops of orange amongst the darkening blue.

"I come up here sometimes, mostly on my breaks," Richie says. He doesn't explain how he has a key, but Stan doesn't really mind.

"It's nice," he comments, brushing away some curls that wip into his eye.

"I'd be happy to bring you up here, too, if you'd like," Richie offers as he comes to stand next to him. Stan angles his head to look at Richie's profile. He really is gorgeous.

"Thanks."

Richie shrugs, almost shyly. It's sort of startling to see. Stan was sure the confidence was something he exuded all the time, that it was just in his nature, especially if their interactions were anything to go by. Stan smiles into his drink as he takes another sip. Richie goes big and downs the rest in one go before resting the flute on the ledge.

"You seeing your family over the holidays?" Richie asks him.

"Yeah." Stan steps forward so he can rest his arms along the railing, shuffling his feet. "I'm taking a week off. Going back home."

"Where's home?"

"Few hours north," Stan hums, hearing Richie's feet drag along the concrete until their arms now brush together lightly. Richie's skin is somehow warm, and Stan instinctively wants to lean into it. "What about you?"

"Yeah, folks want me to visit 'em," Richie says. "They're further away, so sometimes I just spend Christmas with my friend Bev and her family. But, my sis's got a little one this year, so he's gotta finally meet his best uncle, obviously."

"Poor kid," Stan quips, and Richie bumps their shoulders together on a laugh.

"So..." Richie says, and his tone his lowered a fraction. Stan feels a shiver wrack his body, and it's only partially from the cold. "You always dance that ridiculously hot with someone? Or am I just special?"

Stan licks his lips. Was Richie special?

"Depends on what you mean..." Stan deliberately trails off and looks out to the sunset.

In his peripheral vision he can pin-point the second Richie's gaze lands on him. He clears his throat. "I mean, should I start preparing now to have my heart broken tonight?" he jokes, but Stan can hear he's nervous.

Stan replays his answer in his head several times before pushing away from the railing to face Richie fully. Richie copies him, his knuckles white as he grips the metal barrier. The sun has almost set, and the shadows cast across Richie's face only increase his beauty. There's a tint of pink atop his cheekbones, lips red where he's been biting into them. His eyes, shining bright behind his glasses, never waver as he looks at Stan in wondrous desire.

Stan feels special to Richie in that moment.

"Maybe this will help answer your question..."

And then Stan is leaning forward and sliding his lips against Richie's.

He feels Richie's breath hitch, feels hands cup his face tenderly as Richie angles their heads to sooner deepen the kiss, sending Stan's worldview into a crashing halt.

He grips hard at Richie's back and drags him in closer, their bodies flush from head to toe. Richie breathes heavily through his nose, thumbs brushing lightly at Stan's cheeks as their lips slot together gorgeously and addictingly. Stan licks at Richie's top lip until Richie darts his own out to meet him, and his fingers move to thread through Stan's curls to haul him closer still, tongues now sliding hotly against each other.

Stan's feels his chest heaving; hears his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears; feels his slacks tighten with each passing second his mouth is still connected to Richie's eager one.

Finally, he has to pull away, sucking in air and resting their foreheads together.

" _That--_ " Richie swallows, and in his hazy mind Stan only now registers how interested Richie is from where they're still pressed flush together. "--was probably the best answer I could've hoped for."

"Glad I could help," Stan says with a smile.

"We, um," Richie murmurs into the wind. "We don't have to... do anything else. Like, this is already more than I could've hoped for."

Stan feels something warm bloom in his chest from the confession. He watches Richie through his lashes, taking his time to think it all over. It really had been a great kiss - amazing, even. Something about how easy this all feels, how simple, is what helps Stan to make his final decision. Slowly he steps away and Richie's hands hover in the air briefly, as if holding a ghost before they go limp, and Stan keeps a blank face until he can't contain the smile any longer.

"Well, are you coming?"

He can see the question finally register to Richie's ears, and then his face bursts with glee as he follows after Stan with a laugh.

"Don't do that to me, man."

"Sorry," Stan says, not really sorry at all.

They take the elevator back down to the ground floor, not even caring to stop halfway to collect their jackets, and the entire ride down Stan laughs happily as Richie kisses tenderly at his neck. They stumble out of the elevator, high on the feeling of what was about to happen, only Stan has to stop them a few metres away to pull out his phone.

Richie makes a noise like a kicked puppy and circles his arms around Stan's waist. "What is it?"

Stan rubs Richie's chest soothingly as he inputs the password. "My friend Eddie. I just want to let him know I'm leaving."

"Eddie?" Richie asks with surprise.

"Yeah," Stan frowns and looks up. "You know him?"

"Is that who you were dancing with?"

When Stan nods, Richie makes a disbelieving sound. "My friend Bill has been going on and on about some guy called Eddie he always talks to in the elevator. What are the chances you guys happened to be friends, too?"

"Oh my god," Stan says, before typing out a quick text and pocketing his phone. "Well, I hope they managed to find some time tonight. I don't think I can handle hearing Eddie rave about the guy any longer."

"Hey, Bill's great." Richie argues, but he grows distracted when Stan guides one of Richie's hands down so it rests over his ass. "Uh..."

"Wanna call an Uber?" Stan almost whispers.

"What?" Richie asks, his eyes not leaving Stan's lips. "What --no. That takes too long, we're hailing a cab."

Stan wants to argue on the statistics of that claim for one hot minute, but luckily for them there's an empty taxi approaching from down the street, and Richie extends a long arm hurriedly and soon they're tumbling inside. Stan gives the driver his address before he thinks about it, but he knows he would much prefer to do this in his apartment for their first time.

He tries not to linger on his mind apparently already deciding there will be more than one time.

Stan's apartment is only about ten minutes from work, if the traffic was decent. The racing of his heart is even more apparent now that they're no longer moving around. Stan can feel the alcohol fade away and the nerves return. He exhales lowly and rests his hands by his sides, flat on the leather seats, and not a minute later he feels fingers brush against his own in a comforting gesture.

Richie is looking out the window, but Stan can see he's smiling.

He tries to relax and channel some confidence. Slowly he reaches past Richie's hand and comes to a stop by his leg, running his fingers through the creases of his pants until they circle over and rest on the inside of Richie's thighs. He hears Richie curse lightly.

"I wouldn't do that," he warns, voice unsteady.

"Why?" Stan asks, just to hear Richie's answer.

Richie shifts in his seat so he's facing Stan, and he leans forward until they're out of ear-shot of the driver. Stan anxiously holds his breath.

"Because I can't promise I won't jump you right here, right now, and I'm not about to share you like that with our cab driver," he whispers.

Stan swallows and grips harder into his leg, drawing a sharp intake from Richie. "We might get a cheaper fare though..."

"Stan The Man..." Richie chuckles with mirth. "I think you're gonna be the death of me."

Stan flushes and really hopes this ride is over soon. When they come to a stop outside his apartment building 5 minutes later, Richie practically throws the fare to the driver, tipping generously, and together they make their way through the gate and up the elevator, hardly managing to keep their hands off each other. Richie begins sucking at Stan's neck as he's attempting to open his door, and he can't help but think of every innuendo when he finally gets the key in the slot.

He flicks the switch by the door-frame before throwing his keys onto their designated tray. He's never bothered much with furnishing, leaving a relatively open space. He wonders what Richie's apartment looks like.

"I didn't even think to ask if you live alone," Richie says then, his arms still around Stan's waist as he looks around.

"Well I do," Stan says, eternally greatful for it. "Do you?"

Richie shakes his head. "Got a roommate, Bev. It's mostly just to save money."

Understandable. Stan circles in his arms, knowing full well whatever was about to happen was going to happen incredibly soon. His body was thrumming underneath his skin as want coursed in his veins. He didn't do things like this; he wasn't a casual-hook-up kind of guy. The possibility of _Richie_ being that guy left something hollow in his chest. Did he want it to mean something more?

"I can see you thinking," Richie teases. He brushes two fingers over Stan's cheek. "You're sure about this?"

Stan wants to punch Richie for being so considerate. He wants Richie to take the lead. Instead, he starts undoing the buttons on his shirt from the top down, and Richie doesn't move the entire time, just watching Stan undress like a forbidden temptation. When his shirt falls to the floor, he grips the hem of his singlet and lifts it over his head until his chest is exposed to the chill of his apartment. He really should turn the heater on.

Richie reaches out to touch him. "Fuck, Stanny..."

"Richie, come on," Stan says with a flush, feeling silly being the only one undressed. "This really only works if we both do it."

"Oh, is _that_ how this works?" Richie laughs. "Alright, but I'm worried I'm gonna pale in comparison to you..."

Stan wants to argue because, really? Richie moves a lot faster than he had until they're showing equal amounts of skin, and without wasting any more time Richie surges forward so they're kissing again, long and hard and digging nails into exposed flesh. Stan takes a step back, dragging Richie with him, and he knows how much easier it would be to separate but can't bring himself to do it. Richie is like a brand marking along every inch of skin, and Stan feels his chest begin to heave.

Stan is about to point out which is his bedroom door, but Richie cuts him off effectively by grinding their still clothed dicks together up against the wall. He keeps the rhythm up, moving their pelvises tantalisingly slow as he continues to suck the air out of Stan's lungs.

"Rich..." he tries to murmur past his lips, but Richie somehow melds them even closer. Stan makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat, feeling blood rush at an alarming rate down to his dick.

Richie finally pulls back, and his lips glisten with spit while his cheeks are flushed red. Stan knows he must look equally as wrecked.

"Fuck," Richie says, and that sums everything up quite well. Without looking he begins to unbuckle the belt of his slacks, and Stan does the same along with their shoes, and when Richie presses their bodies together again without that second layer, Stan smothers his whimper into Richie's shoulder.

" _Stan_ , Stan oh my god, babe," Richie is rambling, running his hands up and down Stan's back.

"Bed..." Stan manages to get out and Richie guides them to it without any further prompting. Stan falls flat on his back, staring up at Richie with parted lips, and Richie leans forward to whine into the juncture of his neck.

"That is _so_ not fair..."

"What?" Stan has half a mind to ask.

Richie pulls back. "You really have no idea what it is you do to me."

Feeling bold, Stan says, "I want you to eat me out."

The arms currently holding Richie up give out momentarily, and his eyes grow wide behind his glasses. Stan comes to find he quite enjoys a speechless Richie. Their lips meet again, and Richie rests his weight on one arm while the other trails down to dip underneath Stan's briefs, running through the coarse hair teasingly and causing Stan's hips to jerk up.

" _Mmm--_ "

"That's what you want, Stanny?" Richie asks, not really a question. "You want my tongue in you, huh? You're so desperate for it, aren't you? Fuck, you're so hot, so beautiful Stan, baby..."

Wave after wave of heat washes over Stan's face from Richie's words. He can only nod in answer, breath hitching when Richie's fingers dip lower until they're curling around the head of his dick, smearing the pre-cum Stan didn't even realise had begun to leak out. Not wanting to dirty his briefs, he shoves them down over Richie's hand until he can kick them off the bed to land somewhere on the floor. Slowly he spreads his legs, eyes squeezed shut as he licks into Richie's mouth again.

"Fuck, Stan, oh god--" Richie mumbles when he seperates them, taking in the picture of Stan spread out before him and covering his mouth with his hand. Stan removes it.

"I wanna hear you," he surprises himself by saying. It was certainly an ego boost seeing confident, sauve Richie fall apart in front of his eyes.

Richie is shaking his head. "You're killing me here. _Seriously_ , I think I'm dying." But he does as Stan asks and proceeds to manhandle Stan over until his ass is perched high in the air. Stan presses his mouth into the comforter and makes a keen noise, trying not to feel embarrassed at being in this position. He was so exposed, so vulnerable, and it has been a while since he's done anything like this.

"Oh _fuck_ , Stan..." Richie's breath ghosts over the skin of his lower back. "What in the actual fuck, I mean-- how are you _this_ perfect?"

"Richie..." Stan mumbles, not knowing if he wants him to stop with the praises or for them to never end. " _Please..._ "

"Baby, you're so perfect, so gorgeous for me like this, just for me..." two hands cup each of his ass cheeks, kneading them slowly as Richie's mouth begins to dip lower. Stan grips the sheets in anticipation. Richie's hot breath tickles slightly, causing Stan to shiver under his touch, and when Richie spreads his ass apart Stan feels his cock twitch desperately between his legs.

"Rich--" his words cut of on a sob when Richie finally licks over his hole, hot and wet and ridiculously slow. It's always a strange sensation to start with, but Richie appears to have a good handle on things.

Stan shifts his knees, pushing back onto Richie's tongue in a gesture for him to go harder. He feels rather than hears Richie laugh.

"You that eager for it?"

Stan blinks rapidly before angling his head around in an attempt to catch Richie's gaze. "Y-yes, Richie, please, stop being such a fuckin--" he gasps when Richie's tongue pokes tentatively into his gaping hole, delving inside for one incredibly hot moment.

" _Ah-h_ -fuck--" he spits out. Richie pushes in even further, sloppy and heavy in Stan's flesh, his fingers grazing lightly over Stan's balls simultaneously. "S-shit... Richie, I-I- _oh fuck..._ "

Richie guides him up to arch his back more, his touches gentle but firm at the same time. Stan feels his blood in his ears, feels his joints grow stiff before willing them to relax. He begins to pant unevenly, and fuck, if he was falling apart _already_ he's not sure he can handle whatever else Richie might do.

"Stan, baby, where do you keep the lube?"

Stan needs a moment to recall. "B-bedside drawer..." It's cliche, but fuck waiting for someone to have to search it out in the bathroom. When Richie reaches past him to get it, Stan wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it several times, not wanting to lose the build-up Richie had started.

"Shit, baby, you're so fucking perfect," Richie breathes when he settles back down. The sound of the lid popping only sets Stan's body aflame, and his hand halts when one of Richie's slicked up fingers press lightly at his opening.

"Hnng--" Stan chokes, fighting off the urge to move away from the slightly cold feeling of it.

"Has it been a while?" Richie asks, not unkindly. Stan knows it's only to make sure they take it easy. But with sudden determination Stan wants the hesitation gone, and presses back onto Richie's finger so it slides all he way in. " _Fuck_ , Stan--"

Stan cries out, adjusting to the sensation of someone being inside him again. It's mildly uncomfortable, but as the seconds pass by and they wait it out, Stan begins to grow restless, moving up and down on Richie in an effort to move things long.

"Oh, _Jesus_." Richie mumbles darkly, finally getting the message and begins to push in and out, until finally, he adds a second finger and Stan has to bite down on his lip from the stretch alone. "How are you _this_ gorgeous? Fuck, Stan, this is surely illegal... how there weren't a million people trying to dance with you tonight is _beyond_ me..."

"Shut... up," Stan says, not sure he could handle any more of Richie's praise.

"Do you like it when I talk to you?" Richie shifts forward so his lips are near Stan's ear. His body is radiating heat as he lines up with Stan's, and his free hand plays lightly with Stan's nipple. Stan feels spit pool in his mouth. "Stan, you're so good for me, baby, so talented. Your body is fucking art, Stanny, I can't wait to stuff you full of my dick."

Stan's own cock jerks again just from the image alone. With their bodies still rocking together he can feel how hard Richie has gotten, tenting proudly in his silk boxers and bumping repeatedly into Stan's thigh. Stan lets his mind imagine it, at the feeling of Richie finally filling him up, like the final piece in the puzzle. And then Richie moves back, taking his warmth with him, and Stan is about to protest until Richie adds his tongue in between his two fingers.

Stan cries into the sheets, his ass burning as Richie eats him out like the last meal he'll ever have. There's a moment when Stan thinks he might cum, and he pushes the feeling away, wanting to milk this for all it was worth. Richie gets sloppier and loses his momentum, but it is still incredibly hot and Stan can hardly belive what a mess he's become.

"Fuck, I feel so fucking lucky right now," Richie says on an exhale. He rubs soothingly at Stan's calves. "Baby, condom--same drawer?"

Stan merely nods shakily. As Richie preps himself and ditches his boxers, Stan turns over with aching bones, vision blurry with lust as he watches Richie tear the condom packet open and roll it down himself with some difficulty. Fuck, Richie was admirably hung. He gives Stan a questioning look.

"Can we do it like this?" Stan asks him quietly. "I..." _wanna look at you_ , his lips don't say.

Richie doesn't appear to mind, instead he cups Stan's face delicately and kisses him without agenda. Stan melts into it, running his fingers through Richie's luscious curls and tugging. Richie moans into his mouth, and Stan can feel him attempt to line himself up at Stan's hole.

Eventually he needs to look down, and Stan curls his back to accommodate, watching as Richie finally sinks the tip of his head in and Stan tenses instinctively. There's a pause until Richie goes again, and the rest of his head finds its way inside. Stan slaps repeatedly at Richie's arms, urging him to go faster, and Richie draws in a long breath before he pushes in the rest of the way, inch by inch.

" _AH--_!" Stan clutches at Richie hopelessly, and he must leave scratch marks all over his back. Richie responds with an almost animalistic urgency, moving almost without thought, only claim.

"Stan, sweetheart--oh _fuck,_ you feel amazing, you're so good, so _incredible--_ " he babbles, each compliment ending on a thrust inside Stan's tight heat. The bed begins to rock from the force of Richie's movements.

"Richie..."

"That's it baby, tell me what you need. I'm yours, all yours," Richie pants hotly, speech wobbly and shuffling their bodies around. He manages to hit an entirely new spot inside Stan and he cries out without shame. "Does that feel good, sweetheart, right there? Tell me, baby..."

"Yes, oh fuck yes," Stan says. The room fills up with the sound of Richie's balls slapping against him, fast and relentless and so goddamn hot Stan feels like he's falling apart in Richie's hold. "R-right there, _oh_ , f-fuck, please don't stop--"

"Never, baby, oh god," Richie snaps his hips forward harshly and Stan is overcome with an overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure.

It's hard to focus on anything other than Richie sliding in and out of him, of Richie's burning touch and every word he says like it's a promise he intends to keep. Stan feels his insides turn to putty, feels his control slip away as Richie fucks the life out of him. They attempt a kiss but keep missing, instead bumping teeth and breathing hotly into each other's mouths as Stan tries to hold back the embarrassing telltale sign of impending tears.

"Richie, I can't--" Stan starts, knowing his release was almost here.

"It's okay baby, let go for me--cum for me, sweetheart," Richie coaxes him tenderly, his thumb pushing past Stan's lips. Stan licks at the pad and closes his eyes, reaching down to jerk his cock repeatedly until he feels droplets of cum spurt messily onto his hand and all over his chest.

His breath stutters as his back arches off the bed, his moan cracking halfway through, body sensitive from where Richie was still fucking into him.

"Stan, oh my god—” Stan can’t speak, exhausted as he waits for Richie to follow, finally cuming long into the condom and pushing Stan further into the mattress. "Ah, _hah_ \--hnnng..." 

When they both settle down, Richie pulls out and Stan winces, lowering his body slowly so he's now half resting atop Stan's chest. Stan can feel the sticky hot mess of cum and sweat between them, and he ignores every instinct to clean up now in favour of savouring this intimately quiet moment. He plays with Richie's damp curls as Richie's glasses poke uncomfortably into his chest. He knows his ass is going to ache tomorrow.

"Thank you," Stan feels the need to tell him. 

Richie rests his head on his chin, looking up at Stan with a smile. "Believe me when I say I feel like I should be thanking _you_."

"You're ridiculous," Stan murmurs.

"Ridiculous about _you_ , yeah," Richie returns. Stan flushes and avoids his gaze. "I... don't know about you, but... I would be more than happy to have a repeat of this. Maybe even grab a coffee beforehand..."

Stan does look back to him, if only to get a good read on Richie's expression. He looks content, blissful, and like Stan was the centre of his world in that single moment of clarity. Stan couldn't deny the attraction he felt for this man any longer, personality and all. What a bizarre turn of events this has been. 

"Yeah," he almost whispers. "Me too."

Richie's answering grin is brighter than the goddamn sun.

*

ONE YEAR LATER

"Sweetheart, I swear if you don't get your perky little ass out here right now you're not gonna be getting any of this here dick tonight!"

"I somehow doubt that very much," Stan muses as he finally exits the bathroom, shower-fresh and neatly dressed, and steps into the living room.  

Richie looks up from where he's currently shoving presents into a sack and draws in a sharp breath. "Fuck me, Stanny. You have _got_ to stop with this always being ridiculously hot business, I don't think my dick can handle it anymore."

"I doubt that also," Stan kisses his cheek as he passes by, thinking back to just this morning when Richie had woken him up with another 'festive season' surprise. 

"Well come on, Bill and Eddie dressed up this year and you better believe I need a picture of Eddie in an elf costume to remember for the rest of my life."

"Your priorities concern me sometimes," Stan says, but can't help but agree - Eddie as an elf would be a sight for the ages. 

"And you love me for them," Richie murmurs into his neck as he steps up behind him. 

"Mmm, I do, sadly."

Richie pinches his sides playfully and starts to ramble about how they should host a party next year and dress up as slutty holiday characters, much to Stan's claim it will never happen. Together they turn off the lights and lock the door behind them, and this time as they taxi over to Bill's place, Richie doesn't hold back and makes-out with Stan the entire ride there. 

He ends up tipping the driver 50 bucks.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> like? comment? did it suck? let me know jkasdglasfg  
> i'm on [tumblr](http://edsbrak.tumblr.com/) if u ever wanna talk more stozier so HIT A GIRL UP


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